


Paper Cranes

by pizZiCcato



Category: Free!, Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Doctor/Patient, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 06:13:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7156811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pizZiCcato/pseuds/pizZiCcato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"An ancient Japanese legend promises that anyone who folds one thousand cranes will be granted a wish. Isn’t that awesome?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Cranes

**Author's Note:**

> If I'm not mistaken, today is MidoTaka Day.  
> This is probably really shitty for something that took me almost nine months to finish.

“Just make sure that you don’t get water on the bandage for a few days, and you should be fine.”

The woman sitting next to the child in front of Midorima smiled. “Thank you, Doctor Midorima.”

Midorima waved her thanks away. “Don’t mention it. It’s my job.”

She flashed another smile and tugged softly on her child’s arm. “Come on, let’s go, Hinata.”

The little boy groggily stood up, careful with his bandaged left leg. “Are you sure it’ll be fine? It feels kinda numb right now.”

Midorima attempted a smile. He was almost certain that it looked like his face muscles had cramped. “Of course it will be fine. As long as you take care of your wounds, they will always heal.”

He then watched as the mother helped her son out of the room. He looked into the waiting room. Nobody there.

“Hazuki, I’m going to take my break now,” Midorima said aloud. He started walking without waiting for a reply.

A blonde head popped up around the doorway. “Say hi to Kazu-chan for me!”

Midorima didn’t bother replying. He didn’t really need to anyway, because the owner of the voice and head had disappeared before he could even glance that way. He kept walking down many hallways, past many doors, down another hallway, and stopped at the door at the end of the last hallway.

He raised his hand to knock on the door. When a muffled ‘come in’ was heard, Midorima opened the door and closed it after entering.

Grey eyes met Midorima’s green. The owner of those eyes smiled. “Yo, Shin-chan.”

***

_Midorima wondered why exactly Akashi had decided to send him to another hospital. The change in environment would do him good, said the red-haired man, but Midorima still didn’t understand why he had to be transferred to a hospital so far away from Teikou._

_Shuutoku General Hospital isn’t too bad, at least. But it still isn’t at Teikou’s level. Oh well, Midorima can’t really go against Akashi’s words anyway. Besides, an acquaintance of his is working in Shuutoku, so Midorima doesn’t really mind._

_“Midorima-san, I haven’t seen you in a while.” Ryugazaki Rei smiled. He was still wearing the same red-rimmed glasses from back in university._

_Midorima nodded in acknowledgement. “You haven’t changed, Ryugazaki. You’re a neurosurgeon now, correct?”_

_“That’s right. What about you, Midorima-san?”_

_Midorima averted his eyes. “I’m a pediatrician now.”_

_Ryugazaki blinked. “So it’s true… I didn’t think you’d be the type to want to take care of children, but it isn’t really my business, so I shouldn’t meddle. I’ll show you around the children’s wards and wherever you might be needed today so you can start working tomorrow.”_

_Midorima nodded and trailed after Ryugazaki as the latter started walking. Ryugazaki showed the children’s rooms, most of which were unoccupied save for a few where children with more serious illnesses or injuries were resting. He also introduced the doctors and nurses working there. Then they started for the game room, as Ryugazaki called it, which Midorima presumed to be some kind of lounge for children._

_“I wonder if Kazunari-kun is there today,” Ryugazaki said._

_“Who is that?” Midorima asked. He could hear the sound of children screaming and running around, even from this distance._

_“Oh, he’s a patient of mine. He likes children, so he’d often come here to play with them,” Ryugazaki explained. He paused for a moment. “I think he’ll like you, Midorima-san.”_

_Midorima frowned slightly. Before he could ask any further, they had arrived at the game room. Ryugazaki opened the door, smiling brightly. “Good morning, everyone!”_

_The game room looks more like a kindergarten class than a lounge. The walls are painted brightly and children were running around with smudges of paint on their clothes. Midorima felt dizzy just looking at them._

_Everyone in the room paused in their activity upon hearing Ryugazaki’s voice. Then the children chorused, “Good morning, Doctor Ryugazaki!” which earned a laugh from the doctor._

_Ryugazaki looked around the room. “Kazunari-kun, there you are!” he called out, “You should be resting in your room.”_

_Midorima first saw the black hair. Then there was a smile, too bright to be genuine when worn by a grown-up man, but Midorima sensed no ingenuity behind that smile. “Rei-chan, you’re here again! Did you come all the way here just for me?”_

_Ryugazaki’s smile gained a slightly fond note, though his words showed no sign of it. “You wish. I was showing our new doctor around.”_

_‘Kazunari-kun’ turned to Midorima. Grey met green, and both men go still. Then that bright smile returned. “Oh, so you’re the new doctor Rei-chan’s been talking about? Nice to meet you, I’m Takao Kazunari!”_

_Midorima blinked, stunned by the black-haired man’s cheerfulness. “Midorima,” he said curtly, unsure whether he should say more._

_Takao’s smile widened and he looked like he wanted to say something, but Ryugazaki chose that moment to speak again. “You guys know each other now, that’s good. Now, Kazunari-kun, you need to rest and I need to show Midorima-san around the place, so I’m afraid we’ll have to leave soon.”_

_The children, who had kept silent till then, started protesting, saying things like ‘Kazu-nii just got here’ and ‘We didn’t even get to do much’, which grated on Midorima’s nerves, but Takao easily calmed them down with the promise to see them again the next day._

_Ryugazaki exchanged glances with Midorima and shrugged, seemingly saying that it’s a normal occurrence here. Midorima said nothing, instead opting to watch Takao say his goodbyes to the children._

_“Bye-bye!” Takao waved to the children, still with that bright smile, before leaving the room with Ryugazaki and Midorima. “So, Midorima-san, what’s your given name?”_

_Midorima glanced at Takao without turning his head. “I have no reason to tell you.”_

_Takao stared at Midorima. The bespectacled man found that having that gaze fixed solely on him is rather unsettling. “I see,” Takao said shortly before taking a different turn from the doctors. “Well, there’s always tomorrow. I’ll see you guys!”_

_Midorima watched as Takao skipped away, cheerfully greeting nurses and doctors who returned his greeting as he went. His brows drew closer together. Ryugazaki gave him a small smile. “He seems to have taken a liking to you, Midorima-san.”_

_“Hn.”_

***

“Takao,” Midorima greeted. He walked over to Takao’s bedside, pulling a chair with him.

Takao waited for the taller male to settle in his chair before speaking, “How was your day, Shin-chan?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Midorima paused, contemplating whether he should say the next part, “The kids miss you.”

A hint of melancholy slipped into Takao’s gaze. “I wish I can see them.”

Midorima stayed silent. He eyed the heap of origami sheets on Takao’s bed, more specifically one in between Takao’s fingers. “Paper cranes?”

Takao blinked, as if he had completely forgotten the paper he was holding. “Ah… Yeah.”

Midorima picked up one of the cranes Takao had made. “The left wing is crooked,” he observed. He put the crane down next to Takao’s hand. “You must’ve slipped somewhere along the way.”

Takao exhaled a short laugh. “I know. I’m getting clumsier these days.”

Midorima didn’t show how much those seemingly harmless words affected him. “You’re an airhead.”

Takao’s smile widened by a fraction. “I know. But I have you to look out for me, so does it matter?”

“Of course it does.”

Takao’s smile didn’t waver as he lowered his gaze. They both stayed silent for a moment as Takao continued folding his paper cranes. Then, “Hey, Shin-chan, won’t you fold these with me?”

Midorima stared. Takao didn’t seem bothered by it. After a moment, Midorima reached out to extract one paper from its heap. “I still can’t remember how to fold them.”

Takao laughed. “I can always teach you again, Shin-chan.”

***

_Midorima found Takao in the game room the next day, only this time, the children weren’t running around. All of them were sitting peacefully around the room. Midorima, confused of this after seeing the children’s energetic running just the day before, decided to check out what’s going on._

_As he stepped into the room, Midorima noticed that all the children were hunched over, seemingly focused on some task at hand. He kept walking until he got to the biggest group in the room._

_Takao smiled up at Midorima from where he was sitting. “Yo, Midorima-san! Do you want to join us?”_

_“What exactly are you doing?”_

_Takao opened his mouth, about to reply, when a little boy ran over to him, yelling, “Kazu-nii, look! I finally did it! I finally made a crane!”_

_Midorima looked at the object sitting on that boy’s palm. It looked like it had been crumpled up multiple times before being straightened out again, but it still resembled a paper crane somewhat._

_Takao smiled, not any less bright than yesterday. “That’s awesome! You should fold more of those so you can assemble your own_ senbazuru _!”_

_That boy grinned and ran off again. Midorima looked at Takao. “You’re teaching them origami?”_

_Takao looked almost embarrassed then. “Yeah. It’s kinda girly, isn’t it? But I’ve always liked origami, so why not?”_

_“Hn.” Midorima eyed the paper in between Takao’s fingers. “I see.”_

_“So, do you want to join us?”_

_“No. I know nothing about origami.”_

_“I can teach you!” Takao grinned and pulled the doctor closer. Before Midorima could offer any form of resistance, a paper had been shoved into his hand._

_Midorima looked at Takao, then the almost crumpled paper in his hand, then Takao again. Takao just grinned. Midorima sighed. Akashi kept telling him that he needs to learn how to get closer to kids anyway, so why not?_

***

When Midorima got home that day, it was late into the night, around midnight, maybe. For a doctor like him, going to sleep as soon as he can is probably the most expected action to be done, but he didn’t. Instead, he took out two moderately large boxes from under his desk and placed them on the table. He took the lid off of the smaller box, revealing the origami papers inside.

He picked up one sheet of paper and silently started folding. His eyes never strayed from the paper as it slowly started to take the form of a paper crane. When he finished it, he picked up another sheet and started folding again. This will continue for quite a while.

Did he tell Takao earlier today that he couldn’t remember how to fold paper cranes? He lied. Now he can’t forget how to, even if he wanted to. But Takao didn’t need to know that.

On some days, Midorima wondered why he was doing this. On some days, he didn’t know why he felt the need to wonder in the first place. Of course it’s all because of Takao.

***

 _“Do you know what_ senbazuru _is?”_

_“No.” Midorima pushed the paper crane he’d just finished folding toward Takao. “I know that it means a thousand cranes, but nothing beyond that.”_

_Takao looked at Midorima like he had grown two heads. “How can you not know? Didn’t anyone ever tell you?”_

_“Do I need to know that in order to live?”_

_“Not really, but it’s common knowledge! Really, how can you not know?”_

_Midorima sighed. “If it’s so important, why don’t you just tell me what it is?”_

_Takao looked at Midorima for a little longer before shaking his head with a sigh. But he perked up almost immediately. “Basically,_ senbazuru _is a group of one thousand origami cranes held together by strings. An ancient Japanese legend promises that anyone who folds one thousand cranes will be granted a wish. Isn’t that awesome?”_

_“That’s absurd.” Midorima pushed his glasses up his nose. “If something like that is real, nobody would ever suffer.”_

_“Aw, come on, people can believe what they want. Besides, there’s no harm in trying, right?”_

_Midorima eyed Takao’s face. “Do you believe in it?”_

_Takao tilted his head. “Who knows?”_

***

Midorima stopped folding sometime around 2 or 3 a.m. He looked at the paper cranes scattered on his dining table for a moment. He only managed around fifty cranes tonight. He opened the larger box and swept all the cranes into it, adding to the ones already inside.

Sometime in the future, Midorima’s going to count how many cranes he had folded, but not tonight, because his eyes wouldn’t stay open for much longer. He thought he was somewhere around 400, but he can’t be sure.

_Almost halfway to a thousand. Hang in there, Takao._

***

_“Why are you hospitalized here?”_

_Takao blinked at Midorima. He didn’t seem to be expecting that question. “Why are you asking?”_

_Midorima frowned. “Don’t answer a question with a question.”_

_“Ah, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to ask.” Takao scratched his cheek. “It’s nothing serious, really. You shouldn’t worry about it. There are many children here for you to worry about.”_

_Midorima stared at Takao. “Ryugazaki is your appointed doctor, so whatever you’re sick with must be something related to the nervous system. As far as I know, anything related to that isn’t easy to deal with.”_

_Takao’s jaw dropped. Midorima continued, “Also, judging from how familiar you are with the hospital and the staff, you must’ve been hospitalized here for quite a while. That must mean your illness is serious.”_

_Now Takao was the one staring at Midorima. “Whoa,” he began, “You should’ve become a detective.”_

_Midorima snorted. “That wasn’t too hard to figure out, you know.”_

_“No, no, no, that was totally detective material. You even look like the kind of uptight detective I usually see in TV. Hey, Ayumi-chan, don’t you agree?” Takao suddenly brought one of the little girls sitting next to him into the conversation._

_Ayumi nodded shyly. “Doctor Midorima looks really smart,” she said._

_“See? Even Ayumi-chan thinks so.” Takao grinned. “What about you guys?”_

_Before Midorima knew it, almost all the children in the room with them were loudly talking about how much Midorima resembled a detective. Midorima was a little overwhelmed by the amount of attention given to him. Takao had laughed and given the children more stuff to talk about._

_It wasn’t until later that evening, long after Midorima had gone home for the day, that he remembered: Takao never answered his question._

***

The head nurse in the children’s wards, Hazuki Nagisa, was absent that morning, so Midorima couldn’t leave until lunch break, during which Hazuki came running in with blabbered apologies and oaths to never be late again. He’d probably misinterpreted Midorima’s sleep-deprived face as his murderous face. But he wasn’t that wrong, because for some people, lack of sleep is a reason to kill, apparently.

“Once again, I’m sorry!” Hazuki bowed to Midorima for the nth time that afternoon, despite Midorima telling him to stop.

“Okay, okay, you can stop apologizing. Now watch over the place, I’m taking my break.”

Hazuki brightened up instantly. “Yes sir! Say hi to Kazu-chan for me!”

Midorima didn’t bother replying as he left. _Finally._

***

_“Why are you hospitalized here?”_

_“What are you sick with?”_

_Midorima had asked those questions many times when he saw Takao over the course of many days, but Takao always found a way to evade the question. At this point, even though he’d only asked the question absently at first, Midorima was now seriously curious about Takao’s sickness._

_Why won’t the little twit tell him?_

_“Ryugazaki, what is Takao sick with?”_

_Ryugazaki blinked. Midorima had gone to him as a last resort, because it felt like he might go crazy if he didn’t get the answer to his question soon._

_Midorima wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the pained look on Ryugazaki’s face._

_“That’s for Kazunari-kun to tell you, Midorima-san.”_

***

Takao was asleep when Midorima entered his room. From the paper cranes scattered on his sheets and the paper in between his fingers, Takao must’ve fallen asleep in the middle of folding his paper cranes.

_Or maybe he fainted._

When this thought crossed Midorima’s mind, he immediately went to check Takao’s condition. He was breathing normally and his pulse is normal too, so he should be fine.

Midorima let out a sigh of relief and looked at Takao’s sleeping face. He then moved the paper cranes Takao had finished to his bedside table along with the unfolded papers.

Why doesn’t Takao ever get paper cuts, even though he folds origami every day?

Midorima picked up a sheet of paper and started folding a paper crane. He may not be able to do much to help Takao, but he can do this, at the very least.

***

_“Really, Midorima-san, why are you so concerned about my sickness? I don’t think I’ve ever done anything to catch your attention.”_

_Midorima stared. “You spend every day in the children’s lounge. You keep dragging me into whatever activity you’d managed to rope the children into.”_ You smile as if the world is full of rainbows and sunshine, even though you’re ill enough to get hospitalized here for so long.

_Takao blinked. “I spend every day in the game room because I like kids. I keep inviting you into our activities because you seem like you can’t get close to kids and that’s not right for a pediatrician.”_

_Midorima averted his eyes. “I’ve managed for a long time. I don’t need to get close to kids to treat them.”_

_“Probably, but you can’t deny that it would be easier to treat kids when they trust you. Otherwise, they would act like screeching little demons.”_

_Midorima’s face contorted at the strangely accurate mental image. “Maybe. But children are confusing.”_

_Takao gave him a triumphant smile. “You’re admitting defeat! I didn’t know you’re capable of that, haha– ugh.” He suddenly slapped his hand over his mouth and seemed to lose his balance, discomfort clear on his face._

_Midorima reflexively reached out to make sure Takao didn’t collapse. “What is it?”_

_Takao winced and stayed silent for a moment to gather his bearings. “Nah, just feeling a little nauseous. Don’t worry, I’m fine now.”_

_Midorima didn’t believe him, but what was he supposed to do?_

***

Takao stirred. Midorima glanced at him without stopping what he was doing.

After blinking a few times, Takao turned his eyes to Midorima. “Shin-chan?”

Midorima finished folding his paper crane and put it on the bedside table to join the other cranes. “If you feel drowsy, you should just go to sleep. Don’t force yourself to stay awake.”

Takao looked to the side. “I wasn’t forcing myself to stay awake…”

“You fell asleep in the middle of folding paper cranes. They were scattered on your sheets. It seemed like you’d fainted or something.”

Takao tensed. _Shit. Wrong move._ Midorima dug in his mind for words to relieve the tension. “Hazuki said hi.”

A small twitch at the ends of Takao’s lips. “How is Nagisa-chan?”

Midorima almost sighed in relief. “He only showed up when it’s break time,” he paused, “He missed you too, I think.”

Takao closed his eyes. “I see. That’s nice to hear.”

***

_The first time Takao fainted, Midorima almost fainted with him._

_As he caught the weight of Takao’s body in his arms, Midorima’s head became fuzzy and he thought he’d blacked out, but he vaguely remembered yelling for the nurses and Takao’s weight being lifted off his arms. The next thing he knew, Ryugazaki and a group of nurses were rushing Takao out of the room._

_For some indefinite time after that, Midorima stood still where he was. Then he marched to Ryugazaki’s office and waited for the doctor to return._

_It felt like ages had passed when Ryugazaki finally returned with a shaken look. He didn’t seem surprised to find Midorima waiting for him. “Midorima-san.”_

_“Tell me what Takao is sick with,” Midorima said without preamble._

_Ryugazaki pinched the bridge of his nose. “Midorima-san, you know full well I can’t do that. You have to respect the confidentiality between patient and doctor.”_

_Midorima stayed silent for a moment. “I’m worried, Ryugazaki. I know I probably can’t help him, but can’t I at least know his chances at living?”_

_Ryugazaki was silent for a long time, but from the conflicted look on his face, Midorima could see that he had won. He didn’t have to wait long until Ryugazaki caved with a sigh. Then Midorima almost wished that Ryugazaki hadn’t told him._

_“Glioblastoma multiforme.”_

_Midorima’s eyes widened. Ryugazaki just stared. He didn’t have to explain what that is, because they had both done research on brain tumors during their university days._

_Glioblastoma multiforme is the most common and the most aggressive malignant primary brain tumor. It accounts for 52% of all brain tissue tumor cases and 20% of all tumors inside the skull. GBM is a rare disease, with a rate of 2-3 cases per 100,000 person life-years in Europe and America._

_Most importantly, 50% of the people diagnosed with GBM die within a year, while 90% within three years._

_Midorima stared at the ground as his brain processed this information. How long has it been since Takao was diagnosed? How long does he have left?_

_“It’s been six months since Kazunari-kun was diagnosed,” Ryugazaki said, “We’ve tried many treatments since then, but none of them seem to be working, so Takao requested to switch to palliative care.”_

_Midorima’s head snapped up at that. “You’re giving up just like that?”_

_Ryugazaki regarded Midorima with a sharp look. “Believe me, Midorima-san, if there were any other curative treatment we haven’t tried, I’d have long since tried it, but we’ve tried everything.”_

_Just like that, Midorima deflated again. He massaged his temple with his left hand, thinking. So there really isn’t anything he could do to help Takao?_

_“There really isn’t much you can do to help with Kazunari-kun’s condition, Midorima-san. But you can help make his remaining days more enjoyable.”_

_Midorima dimly registered those words as Ryugazaki spoke them. He looked at his colleague, who was wearing a rather grim but strangely determined expression on his face, and nodded. “Thank you, Ryugazaki. Is Takao awake?”_

_“I’m not sure. His condition is stable now, but there’s no telling when he’d wake up. You’ll just have to see yourself.”_

_“I see. I’ll be leaving now.” Midorima turned on his heels and stalked off. About halfway through, he stopped. He never actually bothered to ask where Takao’s room was. Now that he thought about it, the only things he knew about Takao were his name and his interest in origami._

_He’s going to learn more about Takao, Midorima decided as he asked a passing nurse where Takao’s room was. He’s going to learn more about Takao so he can be a better friend, or whatever it is he’s supposed to be._

_(Why did he even care?)_

_Takao was awake when Midorima opened the door to his room. He looked a little pale, but otherwise fine._

_Midorima entered the room, shutting the door behind him. “You almost gave me a heart attack. Don’t pass out on me like that again. Ever.”_

_Takao’s grin was half as radiant as it usually was. “Were you worried?”_

_Midorima frowned. “Of course I was. Do you even need to ask that?”_

_Takao smiled apologetically. “Sorry for making you worry, Midorima-san.”_

_“Shintarou.”_

_Takao blinked, confused. “Huh?”_

_Midorima averted his eyes. “Midorima Shintarou. That’s my name.”_

_First, silence. Then the radiant smile Midorima had come to know so well bloomed on Takao’s face. No matter how many times he saw it, Midorima still felt that Takao’s smile is blinding._

_“Alright, then. Shin-chan it is!”_

***

Silence hung in between them for a moment. Midorima picked up a stack of origami paper and put it near Takao’s hands. Takao gave him a smile.

Midorima silently watched Takao’s fingers as he started folding his paper cranes again. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft rustling of papers. Then, “Shin-chan, won’t you fold these with me?”

Midorima looked up to meet Takao’s eyes. “Of course.”

Takao’s smile was more rewarding than anything else in the world. He offered a sheet of origami paper to Midorima, who took it silently and started folding.

This continued for quite a while. Midorima only stopped when his break time was over. He got up from his seat and said, “My break’s over.”

Takao stopped folding and looked up. “Okay.”

Midorima hesitated at the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

The smile Takao gave him was worth everything Midorima had ever worked for in his life.

***

Although common symptoms of the disease include seizure, nausea and vomiting, headache, memory loss, and hemiparesis, the single most prevalent symptom is a progressive memory, personality, or neurological deficit due to temporal and frontal lobe involvement. The kind of symptoms produced depends highly on the location of the tumor, more so than on its pathological properties. The tumor can start producing symptoms quickly, but occasionally is an asymptomatic condition until it reaches an enormous size.

_Midorima stared at the words displayed on his laptop’s screen. For most of the time, Takao didn’t show much of the symptoms listed, but there was that one time when Takao suddenly got nauseous in the middle of talking to him, and he recalled instances when he’d seen Takao stopping his activity to just close his eyes for a moment, discomfort on his face._

_With a resigned sigh, Midorima shut his laptop and pinched the bridge of his nose. At first he’d been hoping that maybe they’d diagnosed Takao wrongly, despite the impossibility of it._

_Midorima’s head hurt for some reason. He decided to call it a night and go to bed early._

***

“It’s just a cold. Don’t worry, she should be fine in a few days. I’ll prescribe some medicine for her fever.”

The little girl’s father smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Doctor. My wife had gone on a trip with her friends and won’t be back for a week, so I really have no idea what to do when my daughter’s sick.”

Midorima gave him a smile that hopefully looked professional. “Mothers usually know best when it comes to their children, but doctors exist for a reason.” He finished writing the prescriptions and handed it over. “The pharmacist will tell you everything you need to know about the medicines.”

With another grateful smile, the father picked up his one-year-old daughter and left the room. Midorima looked into the waiting room. Nobody there.

“Hazuki, I’m taking my break now,” he announced.

Hazuki gave him a wave from where he was reading a book (Midorima almost couldn’t believe his eyes) and said, “Say hi to Kazu-chan for me.”

Midorima swallowed his question (“Did you hit your head, Hazuki?”) and left the room.

***

_“Kazunari-kun, I think it will be best for you to stop leaving your room.”_

_Midorima was there when Ryugazaki came to the game room to talk to Takao. They’d exited the room before starting the conversation, because the children who don’t understand the situation would most probably throw a tantrum over Ryugazaki’s words._

_Takao looked at Ryugazaki, bewildered. “What? Why?”_

_Ryugazaki’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Handling children isn’t easy, Kazunari-kun. Overexertion will not help your condition.”_

_Midorima watched as Takao lowered his head, fists balled in frustration. He seemed like he might protest further, so Midorima cut in, “Ryugazaki’s right, Takao. It won’t be good if you collapse in front of the children.”_

_That seemed to shut Takao up. He bit his lip and clenched his fists for a moment, then he sighed in resignation. “Okay.”_

***

When Midorima opened the door to Takao’s room, he was greeted with the sight of Takao hugging his knees and crying.

Midorima quickly crossed the room to get to Takao’s bedside. “Takao, what’s wrong? Does your head hurt? Are you in pain anywhere? Should I call Ryugazaki?”

Takao hugged his knees closer to his body and wiped his tears with his sleeves. “No, I’m not in pain. Don’t call Rei-chan.”

Midorima was slightly relieved at that, but Takao was crying so that can’t mean anything good. “Then why are you crying?”

For a moment, it looked like Takao couldn’t speak. He sobbed and buried his face in his knees. This continued for a while, during which Midorima’s anxiety kept building up. Just before he was about to shake Takao’s shoulders and make him speak, Takao whispered, “I forgot…”

Midorima frowned. “You forgot? What did you forget?”

Takao sniffed a few times before he finally looked up. “I can’t remember how to fold paper cranes.”

***

_The first day without Takao in the game room was really weird._

_The children all asked where ‘Kazu-nii’ had gone. Midorima didn’t know what to answer. On these days, he hoped he was as good as Takao when it comes to convincing others that everything was okay._

_After all, he had almost made Midorima believe that he was okay._

_So Midorima went to see Takao during his break. He wasn’t sure what to expect, because Takao can be quite unpredictable at times, but this time, he was strangely predictable._

_Midorima blinked at the pile of paper cranes on Takao’s bedside table. He then turned his eyes to the stack of unfolded origami paper on Takao’s sheets. “What.”_

_Takao gave him a bright smile. “Shin-chan, you came to see me! How nice of you!”_

_Midorima closed the door behind him and approached Takao’s bedside. “What are you doing?”_

_Takao continued folding his cranes. “Can’t you tell? I’m assembling my own_ senbazuru _.”_

_“So you believe in that thing.” Midorima pulled a chair over and sat in it._

_A flicker of pain flashed in Takao’s eyes. “It’s the only hope I have now.”_

***

Takao started crying again, but at least he’s not hiding his face anymore. Midorima stood in stunned silence, because those words may seem stupid to other people, but Midorima knew how grave the situation was.

It took a moment to recompose himself, but Midorima managed to do that. He silently picked up one sheet of origami paper from Takao’s bedside table and handed it over to him. Takao took it without much complaint. Midorima resisted the urge to wipe Takao’s tears away, and instead picked up another sheet of paper and started folding a paper crane. When he finished, he handed it to Takao, who took it with a slightly awestruck look on his face.

“I can always teach you again, Takao.”

For a moment, Takao only stared at Midorima. Then he started sobbing again, but this time he didn’t seem to be in pain.

This time, Midorima didn’t resist the urge to wipe Takao’s tears away.

***

_Going to the game room to face the children’s endless questioning about Takao’s whereabouts was very exhausting, so Midorima decided to leave it to the nurses. He’s not going to step foot in that place ever again. Not until Takao can go back there, at least._

_Since then, Midorima had been going to see Takao on his break almost every day. They don’t usually do much, but Takao seemed to like his presence there and Midorima needed some company, so it was good enough for them._

_(Midorima still couldn’t understand why he’s bothering with Takao.)_

_“Hey, Shin-chan.”_

_“What?”_

_“Do you think that the probability of my wish coming true will be bigger if I assemble more than one thousand cranes?”_

_Midorima thought for a moment. “I don’t know. It depends on your own faith, I think.”_

_Takao hummed as he put aside the crane he’d just finished folding. “Yeah, that’s probably true.”_

***

“Whoa, Midorimacchi’s here!”

“I didn’t think he’d bother to show up.”

Midorima felt his eye twitch as he approached his friends’ table. It was his first day off in a while, and knowing this, Akashi somehow managed to gather everyone in their group of six for a small reunion. Unsurprisingly, everyone showed up. “I wouldn’t dare not to,” he said to Aomine’s off-handed comment. He let his eyes roam about the café. The place was empty save for the group of colorful-haired people he called friends. It was understandable, because the items on the menu are quite expensive.

Akashi smiled up at him from where he was sitting. “It’s nice to see you here, Midorima. Now all six of us are finally here. The last time this happened was… during our university days, right?”

Midorima quickly assessed Akashi’s mood and decided he’s good for now. He then sat next to Akashi and across from Kuroko. “That’s right. It’s hard to meet up once we start working.”

“You have no idea how packed my schedule is! Sometimes I wish I’d quit being a model and worked as a normal salaryman.”

“Shut up, Kise. You’re too whiny for a normal salaryman’s work.”

“How mean, Aominecchi!”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Aomine-kun.”

“You too, Kurokocchi?”

Then suddenly, “What are you going to order, Mido-chin?”

Midorima looked up, surprised. “You work here, Murasakibara?”

Murasakibara, taller than Midorima remembered him to be, looked down with a bored look on his face. His hair didn’t seem any shorter than back then. “I own the place.”

Midorima recalled Murasakibara to be quite good at baking, but he didn’t expect him to start his own café. “Oh. Uh, green tea’s fine.”

Murasakibara made a small sound and left. Midorima watched in slight awe as Murasakibara started preparing his order and almost jumped when Kuroko suddenly spoke up, “You seem to be doing well, Midorima-kun.”

Midorima acted like he never forgot Kuroko’s presence. “That’s quite right.”

Kuroko stared at him for a moment. “You haven’t been sleeping well, though. There are circles under your eyes.”

“Eh?” Kise leaned across the table to get a closer look at Midorima’s face. “Wow, it’s true! Midorimacchi, you never neglect sleep back in uni, except when there’s a test the next day. What gives?”

Aomine, who was seated next to Kise, reached out to pull Kise back by his shirt. “Don’t lean over the table, idiot.”

Akashi gave a small laugh. “It’s alright, Aomine. I’m glad to see that one of us is still as energetic as ever.”

Kise grinned triumphantly. “See? Akashicchi appreciates my spirit. You should too, Aominecchi.”

“Tch.”

“Don’t frown, Aominecchi. The wrinkles will stay there permanently if you do that.”

Midorima silently watched Kise and Aomine’s banter. As he did, he realized that they had changed. Aomine didn’t seem quite like the person who didn’t know what to do with his life back then. Kise is still energetic as ever, but he didn’t seem quite so childish. He realized that they had matured.

“Mido-chin, your tea.”

“Oh. Thanks, Murasakibara.”

“Yeah.” Murasakibara pulled a chair from a nearby table over. He then pulled his hairband off and let his hair fall across his shoulders. “Why haven’t they stopped yet? They’ve been at it since they got here.”

Midorima sipped his tea. Akashi answered Murasakibara’s question with a small smile, “It’s just their way of showing that they care about each other.”

“It’s not, Akashi. Ew, that’s gross.”

As Kise’s laugh filled the room, Midorima noticed something else. Even though Kuroko was sitting right next to him, Kise didn’t drape himself all over him, which was what he used to always do. Instead, he was sitting really close to Aomine (their knees must be touching under the table) and looking like he belonged there.

Midorima was about to point this out when the bell above the door jingled, signaling a customer’s entry. Murasakibara, who had been looking indifferent up until just a moment ago, immediately stood up and hurried to the counter once he saw the person who entered. It was a black-haired man, tall but not nearly as tall as Midorima, whose hair hid the left part of his face. He looked at their group for a moment, surprise evident on his face, before shaking away his surprise and starting for the counter.

Midorima glanced at Murasakibara and was quite surprised to see that he wasn’t slouching like when he was taking his order. He wondered what this meant as that dark-haired man approached Murasakibara with a smile. “Hello, Atsushi.”

 _A regular customer_ , Midorima noted. Murasakibara flushed slightly (Midorima almost choked). “The usual, Muro-chin?”

That man’s smile widened. “Yes, please.”

_Murasakibara actually remembers what this guy usually buys. What._

Midorima turned his eyes away when he heard Akashi’s laugh. “Someone’s having a crush,” he murmured. Kise and Aomine snickered. Kuroko smiled secretively. Midorima was still in shock (Murasakibara blushed, for god’s sake).

When Murasakibara very reluctantly returned to their table after that man left, everyone started talking at the same time.

“He’s so pretty, Murasakibaracchi! Does he come here often?”

“Didn’t know you like the pretty ones.”

“Congratulations, Murasakibara-kun.”

“It’s nice to see that you’ve found someone you like. What does he do for a living? Have you made any move to ask him out?”

Midorima saw how red Murasakibara had turned and decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “How has work been for you guys?”

His question successfully changed the topic. Kuroko talked about the children he was teaching at his kindergarten, how some of them are little angels while others seem like the devil incarnate. Kise talked about his trips overseas, about the places he went to for his photoshoots. Aomine talked about his team and the games they played in, about the opponents they faced and his victories. Murasakibara talked about everything on the menu and how he came up with the recipes and names. Akashi looked over them the entire time with a fond smile on his face.

“So, Midorima, what about you?”

Midorima blinked, unprepared for the spotlight to suddenly turn to him. “Me?”

They all looked at him, as expectant as they can ever be. Midorima thought about his days at Shuutoku, about Takao, about his sunny smile, about his paper cranes, everything that he could possibly talk about, and said, “There isn’t really anything to say.”

***

_“Hey, Shin-chan, do you have a wish?”_

_Midorima’s eyes stayed on the paper crane Takao was folding. “Probably.”_

_Takao’s smile was evident in his voice when he spoke next. “Of course you do. Everyone has a wish that they want to come true.”_

_Midorima looked up. “Then why do you bother asking when you already know that I have a wish?”_

_Takao gave him one of his grins, the ones that have been appearing less and less with each passing day. “What’s your wish, Shin-chan?”_

I want you to live _, Midorima didn’t say. “It’s none of your business,” he said instead._

***

“You didn’t come yesterday,” was the first thing Takao said when Midorima went to see him that day.

Midorima closed the door and pulled a chair to his usual spot. He sat and assessed Takao’s mood. He didn’t seem angry, just curious. That’s good. “It was my day off. I went to see my old friends.”

“Oh.” Takao continued folding his paper cranes. “What are they like? You don’t look like the type to keep in touch with other people if they aren’t important.”

Midorima picked up one of the papers lying on the sheets and started folding too. “We used to be quite close. I can’t get out of touch with them even if I want to, because one of them seems to think of himself as the mother hen and us as the chicks.”

There was a burst of laughter from Takao. He looked at Midorima, his face showing both incredulousness and amusement. “What? So you’re one of his chicks?”

“He probably thinks so.” Midorima tossed his crane onto the bedside table and picked up another paper. “But I never bothered asking, so that might not be the case.”

A short pause. “Your friends seem interesting.”

Midorima looked up. Takao was smiling with a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was reminiscing something. Midorima wasn’t sure whether he was reminiscing good things or bad things. “They’re strange people.”

Takao laughed. He continued folding his cranes. Midorima did too.

***

_Midorima was at a stationery store to buy a new folder to put records in when he saw the packages of origami paper. He stared at them. Was it strange that he felt compelled to buy them?_

_His mind suddenly recalled the words of one certain black-haired man._ “An ancient Japanese legend promises that anyone who folds one thousand cranes will be granted a wish. Isn’t that awesome?”

_Midorima pondered over it for a moment. What bad would it bring? It’s just folding paper cranes, and origami paper can’t be that expensive._

_In the end, he bought more origami paper than he knew what to do with._

***

Something didn’t sit right with Midorima when he woke up that day. He can’t point out what it was, but it was there, poking at the back of his head like an itch that refused to disappear. It was really irritating, but he couldn’t do anything about it, so he ignored it to the best of his efforts.

When he arrived at the hospital that morning, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong in there. It only added to the strange feeling that had been haunting him since he woke up.

_How irritating._

The staff he ran into greeted him like they usually do. He hasn’t run into Ryugazaki yet, which isn’t really all that strange, but he felt like he needed to find Ryugazaki as soon as possible. Maybe later, after he’s gone to see Takao.

The patients came with the same not-so-serious cases. He dealt with them with the same attitude as always. All the while, the haunting feeling didn’t leave, even for a moment.

_How irritating._

“Hazuki, I’m taking my break now.”

Before he could even reach for the doorknob, Hazuki had placed himself in front of the door. The look on his face was frantic, bordering on panic. “Uh, I don’t think you should do that now. Ah, you should go see Rei-chan first.”

Midorima frowned. This is the first time Hazuki ever showed any opposition to Midorima taking his break. “Why should I?” He’d actually been planning to go to Ryugazaki, but Hazuki didn’t need to know that.

Hazuki fidgeted nervously. “Uh. Just do it. Rei-chan’s probably waiting for you in his office. Go there first thing, yeah?”

Midorima was tempted to say no just to piss Hazuki off (because contrary to people’s beliefs, Midorima can be cheeky too sometimes) but he decided otherwise when Hazuki looked at him pleadingly. “Okay.”

***

_Finding motivation to fold the paper cranes wasn’t as hard as Midorima originally thought. He just had to fold one crane, then before he knew it, he was folding more and more cranes. The amount of paper cranes he’d finished increased steadily, and before long, he couldn’t leave them scattered on the table anymore and had to put them in a large box._

_As he swept the paper cranes into the box, he briefly thought: Would he be able to finish folding one thousand cranes in time?_

***

Ryugazaki looked worn out, more than Midorima had ever seen him, including that time in university when he pulled an all-nighter for a quiz he forgot to study for. He regarded Midorima with a sad look. “Midorima-san.”

“Hazuki said I should come to see you.” Midorima closed the door behind him and waited expectantly.

Ryugazaki pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nagisa-kun did, huh. Of course he did.”

Midorima frowned. His gut feeling is right, something is wrong. “What’s going on, Ryugazaki?”

“It’s more like what happened, Midorima-san.” Ryugazaki looked at him, eyes blank.

Dread coiled inside Midorima’s gut. “What happened?”

Ryugazaki closed his eyes. “Kazunari-kun is gone.”

Suddenly, Midorima felt like everything inside him had been sucked out, leaving him feeling so empty he thought he’d died.

He should be feeling sad. He should be feeling pained. He should be feeling something, but for some reason, he didn’t. He just felt empty.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Patients came and went, Hazuki gave him a few worried glances (which he ignored), more patients came and went, and then it was time to go home. He didn’t quite remember how he got home, but the next thing he knew, he was sitting in his own living room, two large boxes on the table in front of him.

He blinked at the boxes, the feeling of emptiness not letting up in the slightest. His head dimly recognized the boxes, and he should probably be feeling something here, but there was nothing. Had he really died? Why didn’t he feel anything? He wanted to feel something, he didn’t care if it’s pain or sadness or stress or whatever, he just wanted to feel.

Slowly, with arms that felt like they weight a ton, Midorima lifted the lid off the bigger box and stared at the paper cranes stuffed inside. Still nothing. He blinked slowly and picked up one of the cranes to put on the table. Still nothing. He picked up a second crane. Still nothing. He continued picking up the paper cranes, absently counting them as he did.

Ten cranes. Thirty cranes. Fifty cranes. One hundred cranes. Three-hundred cranes. Five-hundred cranes. Seven-hundred cranes. Nine-hundred cranes. He still felt nothing.

Nine-hundred and ten cranes. Nine-hundred and thirty cranes. Nine-hundred and fifty cranes. Nine-hundred and seventy. Nine-hundred and ninety. Nine-hundred and ninety-three. Nine-hundred and ninety-five. Nine-hundred and ninety-seven. Nine-hundred and ninety-nine.

Midorima’s fingers touched the bottom of the box. He felt around for the thousandth crane, but couldn’t find it. He withdrew his hand and stared, thinking.

He only finished nine-hundred and ninety-nine cranes.

Only those who fold one thousand cranes are granted a wish.

He was only one crane short of one thousand.

_Maybe if he’d finished the last crane last night, Takao would still be alive._

Midorima snorted. What kind of thinking was that? It’s not like he truly believed that the charm would work.

(He still tried to fold one thousand cranes though, so that must mean that he believed it to some extent.)

Then suddenly, it all hit him.

Sadness. Pain. Anger. Regret. All sorts of emotions, most of which Midorima couldn’t name, hit him at that moment when he least expected it. Sadness and pain at Takao’s death. Anger at the fact that Takao left him, just like that. Regret that he didn’t even get to say goodbye.

Midorima’s eyes burned with tears. He tried to blink them away, but the more he blinked, the more tears built up, pressing at his eyes. Finally, after a long while, the first tear fell from one eye, followed closely by one from the other eye. After that, the tears just won’t stop, so Midorima didn’t bother holding back anymore and cried. He cried for Takao’s death. He cried for the future Takao couldn’t face. He cried for the time they couldn’t spend together. He cried for Takao, because what was left for him to do?

He didn’t know how long he cried, but when he finally stopped, he knew he’ll have puffy eyes tomorrow. He’ll have to call in sick.

With a sigh, Midorima blinked the last of his tears away. His eyes fell on the paper cranes still scattered on the table in front of him.

He’s only one crane short of one thousand.

If he finished the thousandth crane right now, would he still get that one wish?

Midorima knew that it was a ridiculous thought, but he couldn’t stop himself from hoping. What if his wish did come true? No matter how small the chance, he doesn’t mind trying, because it’s just one crane.

So Midorima folded the last crane and made his wish.

**Author's Note:**

> So much weird stuff in here. Sigh.
> 
> I don't want to leave a long-ass end note, so I decided to post the writing process here:  
> http://pizziccato.tumblr.com/post/145740835406/paper-cranes-the-process


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